


Angel Eyes

by catfishofoldin99colours



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: (also this is the first fic for amita and debbie that's really sad), (come on fandom y'all are missing out on some great potential pre-movie relationship between them), Clothed Sex, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/F, Frottage, Fuckbuddies, Light Dom/sub, NSFW, Praise Kink, amita is a dominant little power bottom shit also fite me, anyway so amita and debbie clearly know each other from before the film, debbie ocean has a praise kink fite me, lou and tammy are mentioned very briefly they don't really appear at all, lou knows about it and she's cool with it, pre-movie ocean's 8, they're both really great friends and fuck sometimes but its all consensual!!, what did they get up to back in the day i wonder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catfishofoldin99colours/pseuds/catfishofoldin99colours
Summary: Everyone knows Lou and Debbie are a thing, and have been since the dawn of time.Not as many people know about Debbie's and Tammy's relationship back in the day, but there's still a fair few who do.But does anyone know about what Debbie and Amita used to get up to all those years ago?





	Angel Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe i spat this out in like 4 hours after reading one completely unrelated prompting sentence on tumblr
> 
> ANYWAY  
> so there's not a lot of amita content around which is sad cos my girl has a lot of potential, but there's even less amita x deb content, like this is the first fic for this ship on ao3 (the tag doesn't exist yet so i have to cultivate it with my bare hands lmao)  
> so here. have this long-ass nsfw fic (why is my first content of a n y t h i n g always smut) that my brain somehow managed to create on a sunday afternoon out of the blue. enjoy!

A lone sing-song sound rang throughout the apartment, and Debbie’s pulse quickened at the noise. There was only one person she was expecting to drop by today, and now that she was here, her mind raced at the possibilities. Flashes of images, both real and imagined, danced in her mind as she recalled last night’s text conversation with Amita.

 **_Deb_ ** _: Honey, you know that whatever you bring to the table, I’ll eat it up in a flash._

 **_Mita_ ** _: dont have to tell me twice  
**Mita** : if last time was anything to go by  ;)_

 **_Deb_ ** _: In my defence, Lou was out of the country!_

 **_Mita_ ** _: yeah but she’s not anymore is she?_

 **_Deb_ ** _: She’s in New Jersey and you know that._

 **_Mita_ ** _: I know I know… still, she’s in a similar time zone, isn’t she?_

 **_Deb_ ** _: So…?_

 **_Mita_ ** _: sooooooooooooo you must really be hungry to call me up when miss Tall Blond and Australian is just a phone-call away_

 **_Deb_ ** _: Oh, I see what you’re doing._

 **_Mita_ ** _: ???_

 **_Deb_ ** _: You sly little fox_

 ** _Mita_** _: *your sly little fox_  
_**Mita** : *image sent*_  
_**Mita** : you hungry yet?_

 **_Deb_ ** _: Goddammit Amita, I was about to go to sleep!!_

 ** _Mita_** _: uh huh_  
_**Mita** : sure_  
_**Mita** : *image sent*_

 **_Deb_ ** _: Just wait till I get my hands on you tomorrow_

 **_Mita_ ** _: you gonna eat all this up too?_

 ** _Deb_** _: …_  
_**Deb** : I’m going to go to bed now and leave you to think about what you’ve done._  
_**Deb** : See if you can guess what kind of punishment is deserving of all your bad behaviour from tonight._

 **_Mita_ ** _: lmao Deb ur funny  
**Mita** : see u tomorrow <3_

Of course, Debbie had saved the photos to her phone and spent a good twenty minutes pleasuring herself with them before she actually rolled over and went to sleep, knowing she’d be too frustrated to do anything else. Still, both the pictures, and vivid memories of what activities she’d associated with them, taunted and teased her imagination as she strode purposefully to the door and opened it.

There stood Amita, dressed in a lovely soft black coat over what she could see was a dark red dress (if Amita knew what was good for her she’d have worn the one with the lace over the top, she knew Debbie loved that one), and a lilac-and-golden cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck. She smiled brightly.

‘Hey Debbie! How are you?’ she asked, innocently pushing a strand of inky black hair behind her ear, like she couldn’t guess exactly how Debbie was right at that moment.

Debbie bit her lip and looked at her pointedly, dark eyes hungry and sparking, but the young Indian woman simply cocked her head and blinked. Shaking her head, Debbie stepped back and pulled open the door, gesturing for Amita to come in.

‘Not bad, thanks. You?’ she asked politely, and Amita’s beautifully clear voice floated through the apartment as she turned and hung her coat, bag and scarf on the pegs near the door.

‘Really good, actually. I mean it’s chilly outside, but not bad for March, you know?’

She continued prattling on about the weather, arranging her hair so it fell in a cascading river of ebony lengths down her back, angling it to _just_ cover her shoulders over the revealing fabric of the red dress (she did wear the one with the lace over the top, Debbie smiled at that) but expose her strong neck, the shadows barely concealing the bruises she bore from last time. Debbie stared at her as she did, leaning against the wall while she preened and keeping her gaze firm, steady, unyielding – she had plenty of plans in store for this afternoon, but they all depended on establishing her dominance first – and with Amita, you had to do that early-on.

In truth, that was one thing she both admired and adored about the jeweller. She was small, and once you knew her she was predictable and understandable – but more than anything she was stubborn and refused to be bossed around. There was no point being stern or loud, because she’d just ignore you, and in the worst case, got up and left (Lou had found that out the hard way). She required a certain mix of compassion, understanding, flexibility and patience, along with a temper fiery enough and proud enough to match her own. She was a delicate, complex person, and needed someone just like her to be able to have a good time; and Debbie admired that, her tenacity and vivaciousness mixed in with her iron will and sultry, manipulating words.  
But most of all Debbie liked the game she played anytime she got with Amita; the guessing, the hiding, the trickery, the cat-and-mouse chase they performed to pin each other down and control everything from their end, both of them determined and both of them unyielding to the bitter end. It thrilled Debbie to have someone as tricky and quick-thinking as herself fighting her for control, and she never got tired of it.

She adored Lou’s domineering gentleness, and Tammy’s well-hidden power just as much – but no one interested her in their ways quite like Amita did.

They moved through the apartment together, talking and catching up – it had been a while since they’d seen each other last, and quite a lot had happened. Debbie brewed them both some tea and they talked as old friends, exchanging stories and gossip, laughing and chatting as if they hadn’t planned to wrestle each other for control of the bedroom this afternoon. To any outsider, and indeed to most of their closest friends, they seemed to be having a normal conversation.

But to any eye trained to their relationship (and there were very few of those), they were very clearly circling each other like tigers, ears flicked back and hackles up, snarling and growling and eyeing each other dangerously.  
Little touches here and there – a brush of Debbie’s fingers over Amita’s shoulder, a soft passing stroke of Amita’s hand over Debbie’s wrist – revealed their barely-contained desperation to touch each other again, lose themselves in the feeling of the other’s warm soft skin. Eyes flashed, and lashes lowered, requesting obedience, and turned darker and sultrier when it wasn’t given. Lilting tones and deeper drawls of their voices betrayed their desire and arousal, though one needed the ears of a bat to pick up on them.

Eventually, rivalling tensions came to a head, and Debbie suggested they… start on their proposed plans for the afternoon.

‘I was thinking…’ she said, rinsing out their mugs at the sink, still internally reeling from the subtle little wink Amita gave her just a minute earlier. _One day_ , she said to herself, _one day I’ll learn not to swoon when she does that._

‘Mm?’ Amita responded, attentive and nonchalant. Debbie breathed out through her nose.

‘… perhaps we could continue this conversation… elsewhere… not that it isn’t truly riveting, but you know how stiff I get sitting in dining chairs all the time. Perhaps we could move ourselves somewhere more comfortable?’ she drawled, turning to look over her shoulder at Amita’s inquisitive face.

‘Lou knows about this, yeah?’ she asked quickly, and Debbie nodded.

‘Of course – granted and approved by miss Miller herself.’ She responded

To her surprise, the smaller woman got up immediately after.

‘In that case, would I be correct in assuming you’d prefer to lie down?’ she asked gently. Debbie smirked and hung the mugs on the rack near the sink to dry.

‘No… in fact I was considering using that lovely old armchair in the living room, the purple velvet one that Lou got for me.’ She smiled, folding her arms as she leaned against the sink. Amita looked surprised for a second, thrown off by her inaccurate judgement, but recovered quickly, her eyes flashing darkly as she mock-curtsied.

‘Of course, that’s a brilliant idea. However, can I use your bedroom to change into something more appropriate first?’ she asked, voice demanding the request rather than asking. Debbie nodded.

‘Absolutely. I’ll meet you there.’ she said, voice husky and smiling. Amita thanked her and headed towards the bedroom down the hall, her step just a bit more energetic than before. Debbie smirked and pushed herself off the sink, slowly trooping towards the living room, her mind racing with thoughts of what she might do with Amita. She was about to sit down in the armchair, the old vintage purple velvet one Lou stole for her some time ago, when she had a thought, and fished around in the dresser table drawers for something.

Only a few minutes later, the bedroom door opened and Amita stepped out, shivering slightly as the shadowed air of the hallway met her bare skin. Softly, she padded towards the living room, hands twined behind her back, before she turned the corner and stepped into the living room.

There on the big purple velvet armchair, its shimmery soft fabric reflecting the light of the afternoon sun, sat Debbie, her legs crossed and hands resting on the arms of the chair, elegant fingers splayed.

‘Ooh, very nice. Is this one new?’ the older woman purred, eyes casting over Amita’s smaller form and admiring the gold-adorned white lingerie she was wearing. It was obviously well-made, professionally done, and crafted from fine, expensive materials that must have cost a fortune even without the golden pieces decorating it.

‘Thank you. Yes, it was specially designed and made for me, with my own measurements and everything. I made the gold pieces but didn’t attach them.’ Amita answered, beaming and looking genuinely proud of herself – and she deserved to be. In the outfit she glowed, her dark skin wonderfully contrasted with the pale shades of the lace and fabric, and beautifully complemented with the shining embellishments.

‘Its wonderful. You look good in gold.’ Debbie drawled, and she smiled as she saw Amita blush slightly. The jeweller smiled again and looked away, letting Debbie admire her.

‘Well, come on, give us a twirl.’ Debbie asked, making a spinning motion with her finger. Amita nodded and turned around, giving her a full view of the undergarments.

A close-fitting bra made from primarily white lace hugged the Indian woman’s breasts, cupping them close and high, but not digging into the folds of her back or shoulders, and with little golden decorations placed over where the lace revealed her dark nipples. The clasps in the back were also golden, and so were the straps on her shoulders, all of which caught the light and sparkled brilliantly. Meanwhile the underwear seemed to be almost all lace, the waistband looking to be the only fabric part, and bejewelled with tiny golden leaves and flowers all around. The legs curved elegantly over her thighs and hips, and supported her ass nicely, while being just translucent enough to leave nothing to the imagination.

As she turned, Debbie felt herself growing hot and damp in her slacks, and uncrossed her legs as she remembered the photos her friend had sent her last night, and imagined them now, but with this clothing swapped in.  
Amita turned to look over her shoulder, long black hair swishing like a skein of purest silk as she did, and smirked when she caught Debbie’s eye – no doubt she could read her thoughts on her face, knowing exactly what her old friend was thinking about.

Debbie sniffed.

‘Alright, precious, that’s enough showing off. Get over here.’ She demanded, voice low and patting her lap as she did. Amita grinned to herself and turned, striding over confidently, before climbing onto Debbie’s lap. The chair was wide enough that she could comfortably sit her legs on either side of Debbie’s hips without being squished against the arms, and sat back on her thighs, head cocked, and eyelids lowered, both challenging and begging at the same time.

Debbie squirmed a bit in her seat and crossed her arms.

‘Play with your boobs for me, would you?’ she said gently, reading all of Amita’s body language to check she was ok. The younger woman sighed softly and nodded, reaching her hand up to drag over the skin of her breasts, sighing in contentment when she touched a nipple. She rubbed her fingers over the dark bud of flesh, and Debbie felt the slight shiver through her body as she pinched it gently. Her fingers knocked the edge of one of the golden embellishments into it and her breath hitched, hardly noticeable – but Debbie felt it.

‘How about you use those little golden pieces to help, hm?’ she said, and Amita opened her eyes to look at her, then winked slowly. She dragged her hand across to the other breast, and pushed the golden circle stitched into the lace into that nipple, a soft whimper escaping her throat when the bud hardened on impact with the metal.

‘Good, good… want to use both hands?’ Debbie suggested, not really letting Amita argue with her sultry tone. Amita smiled and brought her other hand up, soon rubbing and caressing both nipples through the lace of the bra, sometimes using the golden circles to help, other times just pinching with her fingers. Slowly her breathing became deeper, more laboured, and more shivers ran through her body. Debbie smiled as a particularly full one rippled down her chest and into her thighs, where they rubbed against her legs – Amita loved her breasts being touched, and no one knew this better than Debbie.

Soon Debbie lifted up her hands to hold Amita’s wrists still gently and squeezed to get the jeweller’s attention. Amita opened her eyes, slightly panting, and stared at her.

‘Do you want me to touch you, or can you touch yourself for me?’ Debbie asked. Amita’s shoulders lifted and fell in a deep breath, and she swallowed.

‘I can touch myself.’ She replied, tone deep and voice steady. Only the full-blown pupils in her dark eyes betrayed her lust and excitement, and Debbie smirked.

‘That’s what I thought. Good girl.’ She whispered and patted Amita’s wrist, settling her hands on her stomach as Amita positioned herself. She didn’t miss the gentle brush Amita gave her breasts with one arm, a final parting touch for now – and also a show of defiance, a deliberate disregard for Debbie’s request, almost an invitation to reprimand her. But Debbie let it slide. For now.

Opening her legs wider on Debbie’s lap, Amita dragged a hand down over her stomach, tracing the pale stretch-marks over her hips and teasing the hem of her underwear, before running over the lace and brushing against herself. Her ass clenched slightly, and she breathed out, and Debbie felt her own groin throb as she heard the tiny wet sound as she did.  
Closing her eyes harder, Amita continued stroking herself, pausing every so often to rub at her clit, her breathing getting sharper and harsher as she did. Debbie felt the tightening of her thighs around her as she continued, and clenched her own lips several times in response, knowing every motion was getting Amita closer.

With one particularly hard swipe on her clit, Amita’s head fell back slightly and her mouth opened in a silent whimper – Debbie smiled.

Suddenly Amita’s other hand moved up towards her breast again, going to rub a nipple, but Debbie was faster – she slapped it away gently, tone going steely.

‘Uh-uh. Bad girl.’ She said. Amita opened her eyes and paused her hand. Debbie looked down and raised an eyebrow.

‘Did I say stop?’ she said. Amita’s eyelids lowered and her surprised expression was replaced by something fiercer, surer. She slid her hand down, lower than before, and when her fingertips were almost trapped between her and Debbie’s lap, she rolled her hips down onto them; gasping, her skin prickled, and her legs tensed slightly – but she never took her eyes off Debbie.

Debbie clenched her jaw; she was being tricky again, playing for dominance, testing how far she could go before Debbie had enough.

Amita now returned to touching herself through her lingerie, rubbing her clit and lips while staring Debbie down, pushing every now and then to make sure Debbie heard the squelch of slick in her cunt. Debbie stared right back, hands folded over her stomach and staying stock-still. Amita, evidently bored, started rolling her hips down onto Debbie’s lap, and Debbie could feel the warm, damp flush of Amita’s dripping cunt on her legs through the fabric of her pants.

Suddenly, as Amita ground down, she tensed one of her own legs and pushed it up to meet Amita’s body. The action took the younger woman by surprise, and she rocked forward slightly, breathing laboured and heavy. She looked at Debbie, and Debbie lifted her chin at her, the beginnings of a smirk playing on her lips, message clear.

_Two can play at this game._

Amita took a deep breath and smiled at her, licking her lips. She sat back up, and moved to push her fingers under the lace, but Debbie clicked her fingers loudly to get her attention.

‘Uh-uh. This outfit is too pretty for you not to feel _all_ of it.’ she smiled, voice laced with poisoned honey. Amita looked incredulous.

‘Through the lace, or you don’t touch yourself at all.’ She demanded and tensed a leg to get Amita moving. The dark-skinned woman raised her eyebrow, but started touching herself again; only this time, she rocked back on her hips and started rubbing deeper into her cunt, fingers now wet and glistening with slick. True to Debbie’s orders, she never shifted the underwear out of the way or made to move it off herself – but also true to herself, she was playing Debbie’s game her own way, twisting the rules to wrestle control from her partner’s hands.

And all while Debbie watched her do it.

Still, neither could deny that Amita was getting close to her climax, as her shoulders tensed more, and her body shook with more shivers, deeper ones, while she fingered herself through the lace. The materiel meant she could hardly get a finger into herself, but evidently the feeling of the lace on her sensitive flesh was adding a new layer of pleasure to the experience, and she gasped and whined as she brought herself closer. Her hips were constantly canting down onto Debbie’s now, her body desperate to get her closer and chasing that pleasure she had so far been denied.

At one point her other hand automatically reached up towards her breasts, but she remembered Debbie’s words from the previous time, and stopped to look at the older woman beneath her. Debbie nodded, and immediately Amita began rubbing and twisting and pinching her nipples, fondling her breasts through the bra and panting as she did.

Debbie, for her part, sat still and watched. She was wet and aroused, but she denied herself the pleasure of touching herself through her pants, quite content with letting the sounds and motions of Amita on top of her send tingles and shivers through her own body. Besides, she knew she’d receive her release in due course.

When Amita’s voice reached a high-pitched whine, Debbie reached her hands forward and gently grasped both of her wrists again, drawing her hands away from her, before stroking her thighs and hips gently to calm her down. Amita was breathless and flushed, body shaking with excitement, but _not quite there yet_. She swallowed thickly and looked at Debbie.

‘Well done. That was very good.’ Debbie praised, reaching up the tuck some loose strands behind Amita’s ear. Amita panted and nodded.

A brief moment passed where Debbie let Amita catch her breath and ground herself again. She could feel how wet and hot the jeweller was above her but did her best to ignore it.

‘You want to come?’ she asked gently, and Amita sucked in a breath, drawing herself up to stare Debbie down.

‘Am I going to be allowed to?’ she asked, voice, though wavering slightly, just as firm and demanding as Debbie’s. The older woman smirked at her.

‘Depends… if you can do it.’ she smiled. Amita cocked her head and looked confused. Debbie just chuckled and sat back, motioning for Amita to stand up, which she did without a fuss. When she was standing up in front of the chair, Debbie (and she didn’t miss the glisten of slick that sparkled on Amita’s inner thigh) sat up straighter and drew on leg up and over the arm of the chair.

‘You were a very bad girl last night, and today, Amita.’ She said. Amita huffed gently and looked ready to argue, but Debbie clicked her fingers and she stayed quiet. Debbie shuffled a bit, making sure her right wrist was hidden from view, before she continued.

‘The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.’ She said and stared her partner down.

Amita rolled her eyes and visibly deflated.

‘Seriously? That’s what this is about? You couldn’t just tie me up and edged me till I cried instead?’ she groaned. Debbie patted her thigh, indicating Amita come and sit on it.

‘Come on. Down.’ She demanded. Amita would not be easily swayed.

‘You’re such a control freak sometimes, and you really like making it difficult, don’t you-‘

‘ _Down_.’ Debbie demanded, her tone loud, low and commanding, using the one voice she knew she could get Amita to obey no matter what.

And true to that, Amita did. Her head bowed, and her entire body relaxed in obedience, coming forward to nestle herself over Debbie’s thigh. Before she lowered herself onto Debbie’s leg completely, she looked up, asking permission with her eyes, and Debbie nodded.

‘You know what to do, you naughty girl.’ She smiled. Nodding and taking a deep breath, Amita started rutting her hips against Debbie’s leg, rolling deep and hard and fast, and soon the sounds of her slicked cunt rubbing against itself filled the living room, along with her pants and moans and whimpers. Debbie tensed her leg every so often, the hardened muscle sticking out and creating a greater friction for Amita to rub against, often making her squeak with surprise when she did it.

It wasn’t long before Amita was breathless and moaning loudly as she continued to roll her hips on Debbie’s leg, her cants slowly becoming less focused and sloppier, rolling deep and hard as she chased the pleasure in her gut. Debbie’s own cunt was now dripping through her underwear as she listened and watched, but she stayed motionless, only nodding in approval if Amita ever looked up to meet her eyes.

Suddenly Amita stopped, panting and doubled over. She looked to Debbie, dark eyes pleading, and the older woman nodded, running a hand down her arm as she braced her foot on the edge of the chair and used it to rub her leg under Amita’s dripping cunt. She moved slower than Amita had, longer movements of her legs making Amita groan and whine in pleasure, her head falling back while her long midnight hair cascaded down her shoulders.  
Soon she was rolling back, matching the thrust of her hips to meet with Debbie’s leg movements, and Debbie could tell by the way she keened when she made a particularly hard roll that she was close.

Debbie reached forward and gently pulled Amita closer over her leg, and then traced her fingertips along her arms, her shoulders, her back, her sides, her stomach, her chest, her neck, down her torso and along to her hips, running across to her thighs and knees, drawing slow, easy patterns all over the younger woman’s beautifully dark skin. As she did Amita fell more and more undone, her moans and cries becoming louder and her thrusts getting harder and faster, breath quick and barely there in her throat. This was the final stretch, the real kicker – more than anything in the world, Amita loved being touched all over when she climaxed.

With a final powerful thrust of her hips, Amita lurched forward and came hard, crying and panting loudly as she came to rest on Debbie’s shoulder, arms wrapping about the older woman’s waist to hold on for dear life as she shivered through her orgasm. Debbie kept her leg grinding up into Amita’s soaking cunt, steadily easing her through the sensations and gradually going slower and softer, as the aftershocks racked her body.

Eventually Amita stopped shaking and spasming every few seconds, and her entire body soon relaxed against Debbie’s, arms coming to rest by her sides while she caught her breath. Debbie played with her hair, long fingers running through the silky strands, and stroking Amita’s back, fingernails tracing patterns into her body.

‘Well done, beautiful. That was fantastic.’ She whispered into Amita’s ear, and the smaller woman sat up, groaning.

‘Needed your help to get there.’ she said, but Debbie shushed her with a finger to the lips

‘Hey, you did a good job, ok? I’m proud of you.’ She said, and Amita smiled. She sat back, taking a deep breath, and relaxed, resting her head on her shoulder and grinning at Debbie.

‘What?’ Debbie asked, smiling back. Amita shook her head and climbed forward on Debbie’s lap, nestling herself close to her body. Debbie slipped her arms around Amita’s waist and held her close, as Amita brought her hand up to stroke Debbie’s cheek, which Debbie leant into – Amita was one of the only people she allowed herself to be this soft and intimate with.

Amita leant in and kissed Debbie, gently and quickly, eyelashes fluttering against her own.

‘You’re beautiful, you know.’ She whispered, and Debbie blushed.

‘Don’t sell yourself short, honey.’ She whispered back, and kissed Amita again. Drawing back, Amita trailed her hand down to Debbie’s neck and played with the thick brown locks she found there.

‘Oh, I know, believe me. I know I’m a beautiful sight when I’m all shaking and crying and dripping wet for you.’ The Indian woman drawled, accent laced with sultry tones. Debbie felt herself getting wetter as Amita described herself just moments earlier. She looked up at her again when she felt Amita’s hand draw away from her neck.

‘But you’re pretty gorgeous too, when you do that. When I can make you come just from telling you how pretty you are…’ she smirked, and Debbie felt the twisting sensations in her gut flare up. Apparently it must have shown on her face, because Amita smiled and leant close again, her face inches from Debbie’s own.

‘You know you’re so pretty when you’re flustered and don’t know what to say…’ she whispered, lips brushing Debbie’s before she surged forward and kissed her deeply, moaning into it and sucking Debbie’s tongue into her mouth. Debbie, taken quite by surprise, kissed her back eagerly, lost in the sensations of Amita winning her over with a few pretty words and well-placed movements, but enjoying it nonetheless.

They kissed long and passionately, Debbie pulling Amita’s bottom lip in with her teeth and biting, then Amita pulling her in again by the neck as she scrunched her fingers in Debbie’s messy brown hair, pulling on the tangled locks and smiling as she felt Debbie moan. Soon Amita pulled back, and Debbie felt her right wrist in Amita’s tender grip as she brought it in between them, pushing back the cuff of Debbie’s nice shirt to reveal a small remote strapped to the skin with a black band.

‘Thought you could hide this from me, did you?’ Amita asked, deftly undoing the strap and fingering the small button on the remote, smiling when she felt Debbie tense underneath her. She looked down at her partner and smiled when she saw Debbie’s faint blush – she’d trusted Amita to find the remote sooner or later, and now trusted her to look after her with the vibrator it was connected to.

‘Where’d you put it this time, hm?’ Amita questioned, and pressed down once, gently, giggling to herself when she felt Debbie’s hips jump underneath her. She looked at Debbie, dark eyes lidded.

‘Good girl.’

If more people knew just how easily those two words could undo Deborah Ocean, she wouldn’t be one of the most notorious criminals in the known underworld. Fortunately, however, only Amita (and to Amita’s knowledge, Lou Miller) knew this, and always made it worth Debbie’s while.

Amita leaned forward again and started talking to Debbie, whispering sweet praise and love in her ear while she softly toyed with the button of the remote, only half-pressing it down, so it wouldn’t overwhelm the older woman immediately.

‘You know I admire you soooooo much,’ she purred into Debbie’s ear, nosing her hair out of the way as she paused, ‘you’re always so held-together and composed around other people, also so careful to hide how easily you can be undone… I admire how much resolve that takes…’ Debbie whimpered under her, shaking and panting, and Amita nuzzled Debbie’s neck, gently kissing the soft skin. Debbie threw her head back as she did, exposing more of her pale complexion as Amita marred it with bruises and hickeys, biting into the flesh and leaving red rings of tooth-marks peppering her skin.

Amita teased the button of the remote again, this time holding it half-down, and slipping her knee between Debbie’s legs to nudge against her crotch gently. Debbie’s breath hitched sharply in her throat, and Amita seized the opportunity to suckle a particularly fierce hickey into the hollow of her throat, nipping and sucking hard. When she pulled back, she admired the red angry spot she’d left behind, and smiled to herself as she finally released the button of the remote. Yes, Lou would certainly have a fun time trying to measure up to _that_ one.

Again, she teased the remote button, holding it for longer periods of time and pushing her knee into Debbie’s crotch every time she did. She knelt over Debbie, admiring the way the older, taller woman sat there, shaking and fidgeting and whining and panting, completely under her control.

‘As charming and sophisticated as you can be, I’m always gonna prefer this side of you, Debbie.’ She smiled, voice dripping with a sickly-sweet tone. Debbie looked up at her, eyes dark and blown wide with arousal. Amita pressed the button all the way down, and Debbie cried out, her legs cinching up under Amita’s in surprise.

‘Good girl… just the way I like it.’ Amita purred and released the button. Debbie exhaled loudly and glared up at her through her thick lashes.

‘What? Don’t look at me like that, you enjoyed it. Or perhaps…’ Amita traced a finger along Debbie’s sharp jawline, running a thumb over her bottom lip as she considered, ‘perhaps you want me to do it more? Hm, is that what you want?’ she asked mockingly and motioned that she’d press it again. Debbie keened under her and panted, licking her dry lips to try and get words out. Amita stilled, patiently waiting for her partner to speak.

‘T… t-tell me… tell me I’m g… tell me I’m a good girl…’ Debbie managed to pant out, face flushed and eyes nearly watering as she begged Amita to fulfil her wishes. Amita smiled tenderly at her, running her fingers over Debbie’s cheek softly, shushing her gently.

‘You’re the best girl in the whole wide world, Debbie.’ She said softly, and Debbie nearly cried on the spot. Amita smiled and leaned forward to kiss her softly, before resuming whispering endless, endless praise in Debbie’s ear while she played with the remote.

‘You’re the best, Debbie… the very best – you know I’ve never met anyone quite as beautiful or remarkable as you?’ she whispered, and Debbie moaned loudly, a signal that she was very close. Amita smiled and adjusted herself so she could more easily grind her knee into Debbie’s now soaking crotch, while her other hand caressed Debbie’s neck and shoulders under the collar of her shirt. Debbie shivered as her fingers ducked lower, unbuttoning the shirt to reveal her breasts to the cool late-afternoon air.

‘Look at you, you respond so well to everything I do… give me everything I want, just the way I want…’ she whispered, gently easing Debbie’s breasts out of their bra cups to rub a pebbled nipple under her fingertips. She ground a bit harder into Debbie’s crotch, and could feel the dripping heat of Debbie’s slick soaking through her pants.

‘God I hardly need this anymore…’ she giggled, pressing the remote again and kissing Debbie’s neck when she threw her head back at the vibrator’s buzz again, ‘you’re just so good for me, Debbie… you gonna come for me, like a good girl, huh?’ she asked, and could feel Debbie vigorously nodding, panting and moaning as Amita continued to play with her breasts.

‘You’re amazing, and I love you so much, Debbie. You’re not just any good girl, Debbie, you’re _my_ good girl.’

And with those final words, Debbie let loose a loud breathy cry as she came, shaking and shivering and soaked right through her pants, Amita kissing her cheek and stroking her hair and gently grinding her knee between her legs as she pulled her through her orgasm. Slowly Debbie came down from her high, shivering and panting and still whimpering from time to time, and Amita knelt over her and kissed her and loved her, gently bringing her back to reality.

Eventually Debbie stopped shivering, and Amita nestled herself over her, both of them curling up together on the purple velvet armchair as the late-afternoon sun washed over them in a soothing, golden light.

‘This is gonna need a dry-clean.’ Debbie mumbled into Amita’s shoulder, her long finger lifting one of the bra straps and letting it snap back onto Amita’s shoulder. Amita smiled and pulled back to look at her.

‘This entire chair is gonna need a good disinfecting if we’re being honest. Lord knows what Lou payed to get it for you.’ She smiled. Debbie smirked.

‘Bold of you to assume Lou spent any money on this.’ She smiled. Amita shook her head and chuckled.

‘Of course, she stole it. Well, either way, get it cleaned. Unless of course you want Lou to fuck you in the same place I made you come…’ she batted her eyelashes and winked. Debbie grinned, a Cheshire-cat smile coming over her face.

‘Please honey, there isn’t a piece of furniture in this apartment that Lou hasn’t already fucked me on.’ She looked pleased with herself. Amita wrinkled her nose.

‘In that case, get the entire fucking house disinfected, starting with this chair.’ She said, and Debbie laughed, her deep chuckles rumbling into Amita. The jeweller laughed along with her and kissed her gently.

‘You’re beautiful.’ She whispered into Debbie’s mouth.

‘I know. So are you, precious.’ Debbie whispered back and kissed her again.

**Author's Note:**

> (in case anyone is confused, yes this is set before the film takes place, even before lou and deb hit their 'rough patch', lou and deb are together, deb also flings around with tammy as well as amita, lou is cool with all of that, they're all happy and friends and all fuck sometimes and its just Good and Wholesome, although amita and tammy don't know each other yet)
> 
> (i have a feeling no one was confused about any of that but whatever just in case)
> 
> (also the title is from the ABBA song because halfway through writing this my brain just started playing it on repeat and i had to listen to it for the next two hours on loop. so.)


End file.
